OC
by Georgasaurus
Summary: She saw her own creation; she hears the clacking of keys as her path is written out before her in her head; she knows she doesn't belong. Is Miranda bound to the actions chosen by her author...or will she break free from the shackles of fiction?
1. Chapter 1

**Birth**

All worlds begin in white.

The bleached horizon spreads out as far as the eye can see, a brilliantly empty void, lacking life and scenery. No shadows fall in this realm, and there is no light source. It is what it is, waiting for an idea to spark all of creation.

In the distance a clacking noise begins.

Small black dots begin to appear from the sky, fluttering downwards with almost lazy determination – words. They head towards specific points of the white like their destination has been predetermined, and settled on the canvas, waiting. Suddenly colour blooms from them, and they dissolve into the background as their purpose is served. Grey wash covers the ground, dotted with darker shades as shape begins to form. The sky is lighter steel, with white streaks indicating clouds and gloomy overcast. A flurry of letters dance across the land, and the world sharpens, flooding with detail.

Then, like blackened autumn leaves, a spiral of words descend to the ground, filling out the shape of a human stood in slackened posture. At first they are nothing but a solid silhouette, but the form fills out quickly, producing a woman. She is pale and sickly looking, with patchy, limp hair. It looks brown, but early streaks of grey are present. Dark bags sit under her dull, light-brown eyes, and her thin lips are scabbed. She wears grey, shapeless clothes of a thin, grubby material. Goosebumps are on her arms, along with countless jagged scars; some are fresh and an ugly shade of pink, while others are pale with age. All are self-inflicted.

The clacking stops, and there is a pause.

Three words tumble from the sky. Two of them disappear quickly, and rain begins to cascade down onto the landscape while the wind howls like a banshee. The final one settles on the shoulder of the young woman, before melting away.

It begins.

Miranda gasped, a sharp pain in her chest erupting as she breathed in sharply. Her legs gave way and she crashed to her knees, the thick mud splattering up into her face. She could barely hear the dull roar of the weather around her or the water droplets thundering heavily against her skin. The cold had chilled her to the bone; numbed her and dulled her senses. She coughed and pushed her hair behind her ears, smearing the mud on her face. Then she looked up and jumped in surprise at a man lying on the floor, his glassy eyes fixated on hers. She stared, unable to break away from his gaze, and then noticed the stream of watery scarlet travelling down from his head. She followed it upwards, and then retched when her eyes fell upon the source. His skull was caved in, as if he had been hit around the head with a blunt object.

She quickly scrabbled to her feet, skidding on the wet floor, and then glanced about in terror. All around her were dead bodies, mutilated, their blood being washed away by the rain. Where was she? She couldn't remember anything from before...it was all just...black?

No.

_White_.

Miranda shivered at the thought of the colour. For some reason, it gave her thoughts of the start and end of existence; it terrified her. She staggered away from the massacre, and looked over shoulder, biting her lip. Their blue uniforms were soaked through with the dirty water, and in the distance Miranda could see a crashed vehicle.

_What has happened here?_

A sense of distortion washed over her, and she shivered before turning towards a massive building looming ahead. It was beautiful, in a strange way; gothic architecture with massive iron-wrought gates around its perimeter...and yet it held an air of danger...and madness.

Her first instinct was to run back to the van and see if it worked. She could drive to the city and go...

Go where?

She couldn't remember anything. Was it amnesia?

"No, it can't be," she said aloud, the roughness of her own voice surprising her. "I can remember my name, my age, my appearance; I just...don't know anything else."

The van was still a promising idea, and she turned to go to it. Then she suddenly froze as a strange tapping noise began inside her head...like someone was typing. She scratched at her skull, wincing in pain as she did, before having the strong urge to walk towards the dark building. Every fibre of her being screamed for her not to, but she felt...compelled to do so.

_Do not go! Take the car! Go to the city!_

Miranda dragged her nails across her scalp again, and then shook her head. She had no choice. Focused now on her destination, she set off towards the towering edifice.

Arkham Asylum.


	2. Clack Clack Clack

**Clack Clack Clack**

_Clack clack clack._

_The author pauses, their tired features highlighted by the pale glow of the computer screen. They are pleased with what they've written so far, working long into the night to complete the chapter. Glancing at the clock upon the scratched wooden desk, the writer rubs their eyes in disbelief and then yawns. The green LED numbers read 5.26am. Shaking their head, the author ponders for a moment, ready to make a decision. Work starts 9.00am sharp on the outskirts of the city._

_Sleep for a few hours?_

_Or continue creating a world?_

_The author raises a hand to the computer screen, stroking the text that describes their character._

_She needs me..._

_Shaking their head again, the writer rubs their eyes a final time and bends over the keyboard._

_Free coffee at work..._

* * *

All around, there was chaos.

Miranda shrunk against the walls, shrouded by shadow as she crept down the deserted corridor. She bit her lip and whimpered quietly when she saw the first dead body. Clearly whoever had killed the people out in the rain had continued on into here, and yet...

Miranda tried to step over the guard, noting the lack of markings or blood on the floor or his blue uniform, but accidently caught her foot on the body. His head lolled towards her, and for a moment, all she could do was stare in horror.

Then she began to scream.

The man's features were grotesquely out of proportion; lips pulled back into a terrifying, painful grin as if the corners of his mouth had been attached to fish hooks and yanked away from each other. His eyes were scrunched together, beady and black, and his skin was milky white.

Miranda turned quickly to run away back outside, but tripped over her own feet and skidded along the polished lino floor. As she pulled started to pull herself to her knees, she saw a grey, empty canister with the valve opened. On the side, in bright green paint, were the words 'HA HA HA.'

Shaking her head, she scrambled up and sprinted down a corridor, not wanting to look back at the deformed guard. She reached a dead end and cried out in frustration and fear. Where was the exit? Where—

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The noise made Miranda jump, and she glanced about, looking for the source. Her eyes settled on another canister, similar to the one she had seen earlier, only the valve was closed. She had passed it without realising, and it now was between her and the exit of the corridor. Miranda eyed it warily, remembering the lack of blood or harm on the body of the guard, and the empty canister in the hallway. She slowly approached it, and then cried out as the ticking stop and a shrill bell started from the outside of the canister instead. The valve popped open, and green gas sprayed up into air in ominous clouds, which began to drift and spread at an alarming rate.

Miranda stepped back, her eyes widening, and stared at it with her mouth hanging open. What would happen if she breathed it in?

_lips pulled back into a terrifying, painful grin_

"Oh...oh God," she moaned softly, clutching at the sides of her head.

_corners of his mouth had been attached to fish hooks_

Her voice rose in volume as she began to panic.

"God, help me! Oh God!" Miranda tugged desperately on the door leading to an office, and then banged on it when she realised it was locked.

_eyes were scrunched together_

"Help me!" she shrieked to the empty corridor as the gas drew nearer. She looked around the corridor for an exit, but couldn't see one. The suddenly a glint of metal caught her eye and she glanced down.

_beady and black_

A vent!

A strange feeling over came Miranda, like she wasn't in control anymore, and she scratched at the side of her head. Then she threw herself forward and kicked the vent cover repeatedly, bending it out of shape until she could squeeze her fingers under the rim and try to pull it off the wall completely. A hiss escaped her lips as the metal sliced through her fingers and blood splattered to the floor, but she persisted, and managed to wrench the cover off.

_skin was milky white_

Ducking down properly, she scrambled into the vent and crawled away, her knees thudding heavily against the thin metal. Her frantic breathing echoed loudly, distorted into metallic heaving, as if the ventilation system itself was alive and disturbed by her intrusion. Fear flickered through her as her surroundings grew dark and she became blind in her escape. The gas wasn't far away and could be gaining on her, like a predator...

_HA HA HA_

Miranda shook her head and doubled her speed, sweat dripping off her brow as she pushed forward. So focused she was on getting away, she failed to hear the creaking noise as she scrambled along the shaft. There was a bang as the bolts shot off, and the metal floor of the vent collapsed beneath her weight.

_HA HA HA_

Miranda screamed in terror as she fell through, scrabbling with her hands at the metal floor while she slid into the new opening. For a brief moment she hung over a fairly sizable drop into a large room, before she lost her grip and plummeted to the ground below.

_HA HA HA_

_HA...Ha...haaaa_

_Hhhh....._

* * *

A man's voice rang out in the black from an intercom, cutting through the silence like a knife. It sounded foreign – British – and held the air of a man not in control of himself.

"Come on, boys! He's just one man... one man dressed like a lunatic and armed to the teeth! Hehehehe...go get him!"

Miranda groaned and opened her eyes, wincing from the pain exploding in her head as the dim light filtered down. She screwed them shut again and exhaled softly, the ache deadening in the darkness. She could feel the cold of the tiled floor seeping through her clothes and scratching at her skin, irritating it. Whatever had been driving her into action before was long gone, and now all she was left with was a stinging sensation on the side of her head. She forced her eyes open again, whimpering as the pressure and ache returned in full force, and looked up to the ceiling. Miranda could just about see the vent, and felt sick at thought of falling all that way. No wonder she was in pain...most likely she had a concussion.

She continued to lie still on the ground, unable to piece her thoughts together coherently. One thing she had noticed was that she couldn't feel any pain except her head.

_Have I broken my neck?_

A bubble of worry welled up inside her stomach. Miranda turned her gaze to her fingers, and then scrunched her facial features together in concentration.

Her hand moved.

Sighing in relief, she slowly tried to sit up, almost grateful for the burning sensation that wracked her body as she shifted her position. She bent her legs and checked all her limbs to make sure nothing was broken, and then pushed herself to her knees, before crawling across the room to a nearby wall and leaning against it. Then she looked around, trying to take in her surroundings.

The room was quite vast in size, but most of it was taken up by a raised section which seemed to be offices or storage. All around were walkways with railings, all made of dull, grey steel that hadn't been cleaned in an age. Miranda had luckily landed one of the walkways, and on her second inspection, realised the drop wasn't so far now that she was sat up. She glanced down past the walkways and felt her stomach churn. Had she been any further along the ventilation shaft when she fallen, she'd have dropped forty feet to the ground.

Miranda shivered, blessing herself for her luck, and then sat back again, feeling strangely empty and alone, like something was missing. She'd never been religious, despite the fact her parents had been strong Catholics, and left home at sixteen when she'd refused to accept their God and been thrown out—

Miranda stopped mid-thought, chilled to the bone. How...how did she suddenly know all of this? An hour or so ago her mind had been completely blank, devoid of any memory...and now she just happened to 'know' a seemingly trivial part of her hidden past?

"What's going on?" she whispered to herself, clutching at her hair and shaking her head. "I don't understand..."

A door banged open on the lower levels, startling Miranda. She pushed herself against the wall, hoping to keep herself out of sight, and watched a group of burly men enter, all carrying guns.

All at once, Miranda stopped feeling alone; the sense of purpose came to her, and she knew immediately what to do. She scratched the side of her head, and then crawled along the floor and through an open doorway into the offices as the armed thugs began to climb the metal stairs up to her level. Once inside, she saw floor panelling that looked like it could be moved, and tried to open it. It shifted with ease, and Miranda slipped inside into another ventilation system, before closing it over the top of her again.

She waited.

The men walked through, toting their guns and talking tough amongst themselves. They stood directly over her floor panel, so close Miranda could smell the body odour of the nearest one. She gagged silently and clasped her hand to her nose and mouth to spare herself from the stench.

Apparently not all of the thugs had come up the stairs, because a scream sounded from the lower levels, followed by gunfire...and then silence. The other men rushed out of the offices to the source of the noise, their voices taking a tone of panic as they moved into the open. By the sound of it, one of their companions had been attacked and knocked unconscious...without anyone seeing anything. A voice Miranda recognised crackled on the intercom...it was the same one from before.

"The person to bring me Batman will win the grand prize: a night out with Harley! I may even tell her! Oh, why bother? It'll be a nice surprise for her!"

Batman?

"Batman..." Miranda mumbled to herself. Somehow, she felt that she should know the name. She scratched the side of her head and then moved along the vent to a vent cover, peering through it to see what was happening outside.

Although all that was visible were dark shapes because of the low lighting, Miranda could just about make out a larger black figure swooping down on the men like they were its prey. It wasn't long before there was just one left, and as he moved right next to Miranda's hiding place, she could see that he was absolutely terrified.

"You can take him," the voice said excitedly, ringing about the room. "Statistically, your chances aren't very good, but..."

The message ended in manic cackles while the lone thug's lip began to tremble.

From nowhere, the dark shape flew again, but this time he was close enough for Miranda to define. She jumped in surprise at his entrance and hit her head on the ceiling of the vent, cursing as she did, but still not taking her eyes off the mysterious person. He wore black and grey, with a bat symbol upon his chest, and a black cowl with pointed ears that gave him an edge of menace. A black cape fanned out behind him, allowing him to glide down towards his target, and he kicked them in the chest before they had a chance to shoot at him. The sound of ribs cracking was clearly audible over his screams of pain and fear.

The taller man, the one that looked oddly like a bat, punched the thug and drove him to the ground, before knocking him unconscious. Then he looked up to the ceiling as the intercom voice began to speak again.

"Note: need to order more henchmen —good ones this time."

The man shook his head, and then used a grapple to get up to a nearby gargoyle, before leaping away out of sight.

"I guess that must have been Batman," Miranda said to herself, flummoxed by what she had just seen. What the hell was going on here anyway?

She waited for a few more minutes, listening intently for any noise, and then kicked off the vent cover, hoping it wouldn't make too much noise. It bounced off the railing of the walkway and fell downwards, banging against various pipes and metallic platforms, before hitting the bottom floor with a deafening crash. Miranda winced and stayed inside her hiding place a little longer, just in case she alerted any of the people with guns. When her joints began to go stiff, she took a deep breath and nervously crawled out into the open.

The place was deserted, thankfully, and so Miranda shuffled slowly down the stairs, stopping at a henchman that had been beaten senseless and left in a crumpled heap.

He had a gun.

Miranda chewed her lip. She had absolutely no idea how to use a gun, especially such an unwieldy rifle...thing...as this one. Still, there were madmen running around, and if she had one, they might not be so quick to shoot...or they might shoot her because she had one and thought she was a risk. And then there was Batman...she didn't like the idea of his foot making contact with her face...

"One of him; lots of _them_," she said finally, and crouched down, picking up the gun and trying to see if it was loaded. Miranda stood up and inspected it, turning it around and pulling at random bits to see if anything would happen. She had a feeling she would break it if she wasn't careful, when she knocked the trigger. The gun shot out a brief spray of bullets, and Miranda shrieked in shock and dropped it, cowering and flinching as it banged heavily down each step before clattering across the floor to a stop. She leant against the railing, her breathing ragged as she tried to calm herself down.

_Just a gun...just a gun. Go pick it up; it won't bite you, damn it._

Miranda scratched her head, feeling a sudden overwhelming urge to collect the gun, despite the fact she'd probably be more of a danger to herself if she carried it. Running down the stairs, she picked it up, noting parts of it were slightly dented or bent.

_I bet it doesn't even work now._

"Why hello there!" the voice from the intercom said brightly. Miranda yelled out in surprise and threw herself against the wall, holding the gun loosely in one hand.

"Now, now, now," the voice said cheerily, "be careful with that gun! Wouldn't want to blow your pretty foot off now, would we?"

"You...you can see me?" Miranda called out, shaking all over at the thought of someone spying on her.

"Of _course_ I can see you, sweets! You are dim; I _run_ this place! Now put the safety on before you shoot yourself. Can't keep you for fun if you're dead, can I?"

Safety? Miranda looked at the gun with confusion, not sure what the voice meant.

"Above the trigger, you brainless fool," the man snapped, sounding irritable now. She quickly looked, suspecting this was not a person to anger, and saw a little lever with the word 'safety' on it. She flicked it up and then heard a clapping noise echo through the speakers in the room.

"Well _done_, my dear! Now, here's a little deal for you. You make it to my new office alive at the Visitor's Center, and I'll let you live! Maybe even join my band of merry men! Oh! Oh! And maybe you'll even get a _party invite!_ Whaddaya say, sweets?"

The intercom turned to silent crackle as the man waited for her answer. It seemed she had little choice.

"Y-yes," she stammered, wondering what she was getting herself into.

"_Excellent!_ Knew you had it in you, kid! Of course, you're still good for my boys to kill until you get here. Good luck! See you sooooooon!"

The insane cackling returned, this time much louder and deranged. Then intercom cut off mid-laughter and there was silence once again.

Miranda sunk to the floor, letting the gun roll away from her, and began to sob into her hands. Perhaps everything would be slightly more bearable if she even _knew_ why she was here in the first place...but she didn't. The confusion and fear was crushing her, begging her to just give up and let it finish her off. But maybe...

"Maybe this...man...has the answers," Miranda sniffled to herself as she wiped the tears from her sore eyes. She wasn't sure if she believed it, but she had no other goals...nothing to give her a reason to go on. Instinct screamed at her to survive, but why survive if she had no knowledge of her existence?

Miranda rubbed the damp from her eyes roughly with her sleeve and stood up. She picked the gun up and looked at the safety feature, before pointing the gun at a wall in the distance. Her ears still hurt from the last time the gun went off, but she needed to see if the safety feature did what she suspected it did. She pulled the trigger as hard as she could, and shut her eyes, waiting for the deafening noise.

Nothing.

Miranda lowered the weapon and sighed in relief. At least now she wouldn't shoot herself, although Miranda hoped she remembered to take the safety _off_ if she encountered any of the thugs.

Could she shoot someone dead?

"I guess I'll find out," she mumbled, holding the gun under her arm and running across the room, looking for an exit. A door caught her eye; brightly lit with vibrant green paint splashed across it. Nowhere else looked quit as promising, so she walked over to it, scratching her head, and grasped the handle.

Taking a deep breath, Miranda opened it.


End file.
